


Looking Above for the North Star

by J (j_writes)



Category: Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Community: picfor1000, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She focused on the spot where the glass was misting faintly under the warmth of his touch, and slowly let the illusion bleed outwards from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Above for the North Star

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [PicFor1000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/), for [this](http://www.flickr.com/photos/brook_lands/6218431268/) photo prompt.

The logistics of maintaining a bathtub in a stateroom were perhaps a bit outside the realm of the practical, even for a magician – particularly given the constantly roving nature of Le Cirque des Rêves – but each night as Celia lowered herself into the water and watched the steam cast patterns across the window, she could not quite bring herself to regret the indulgence.

Snow fell lightly outside, big wet flakes casting shadows against the city lights as the train rattled past neighborhoods she knew too well. It was one of the rare illusions that she maintained for herself alone, the comforting sameness of snow falling on twisting city streets as she settled back against the curve of the tub and let the water soak the dust of the circus from her skin. 

She felt him approaching before she heard the knock on her door, and she let it swing open while his knuckles were still hovering inches away from it. He closed it quietly behind him, and she listened to him set his umbrella and hat by the entrance before padding across the floor to peer around the screen separating her tub from the rest of the room.

"Clever," he noted, taking in the way the space behind the screen stretched to accommodate a tub much larger than it should have. She smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment, and didn't offer an explanation.

"Tell me," he said, leaning against the screen, "where are we headed tonight?"

She hummed and let her head tip back against the solid edge of the tub. "Somewhere in Florida, I think."

"Florida," he repeated contemplatively, and it wasn't until she lifted her head again to look at him that she realized his eyes were fixed on the window across from her.

"Oh." She let the illusion drop abruptly and felt a brief swell of dizziness as the lamplit snow vanished, replaced by the pale hints of sunrise rolling across a flat expanse of swampland. "I wasn’t expecting visitors," she said by way of explanation

He hesitated, then stepped into the alcove, crossing to the window and reaching out to press two fingers to the pane of glass. "Could you – " he let the request linger there, unspoken, and she considered making him voice the rest of it, but instead she focused on the spot where the glass was misting faintly under the warmth of his touch, and slowly let the illusion bleed outwards from there. He peered out into the city lights, and she could see the moment of revelation on his face when he recognized the scene.

"I expected New York," he said, leaning towards the window so that his nose was nearly touching it, drinking in the sights of home, and in that moment, he looked younger than she'd ever seen him, eyes faintly dazzled, mouth relaxing into an almost-smile. She didn't reply, but stood and stepped from the tub, wrapping herself in a plush warm robe and crossing over to stand beside him, looking out as the city rolled past. "Is it continuous?" he asked, craning his neck to look towards the back of the train, trying to see the edges of the lights.

"No," she admitted. "When we start getting to the outskirts of the city, I know I've been in the bath too long."

He turned to look at her, and she busied herself with tying her hair up, hiding her smile from him as she ducked towards the mirror.

"Have you ever thought of – " she watched his reflection gesture towards the window.

"A tent?" she offered. "Sometimes. There's already the Ice Garden, though."

He paused, then asked quietly, "Is it always snowing?"

"Yes."

"Is it always London?"

She nodded, catching his eyes and holding them in the mirror. "Yes."

He crossed to stand behind her, eyes on hers, and when she felt his hand against her waist, she didn't turn. Instead, she leaned back against him and let his arm curl around her, his face ducking to press a kiss to her neck, still damp from the bathwater.

"May I show you something?" he asked her. She nodded and he pulled back and took her hand, leading her around the partition and back into the stateroom. He paced across the cramped space before pausing by the desk and clearing off a corner of it, stacking her books and sketches to the side. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully folded slip of paper. He hesitated, running his fingers across the edges of it, then reached to hand it to her.

The paper was warm from being pressed against him, and she folded it open, spreading it out on the desk and taking a moment to take in the swirling lines and incoherent sketches. They seemed to move across the page, almost imperceptibly at first, until she concentrated, and then the scene took shape, the tracks leading from one side of the page to the other, the schematics of too many people and scenes pressed into too small a space. Roads led into the distance to each side, going nowhere and everywhere, and in the middle – 

She reached to touch the swirls of ink and watched them glide seamlessly onward. "A map of the train," she said quietly, then corrected herself. "Of the circus."

He nodded. "Wherever it is, however it's set up. Each tent and act, each vendor." She traced her finger across the train cars, until she reached her own. There, a tiny candle burned, an ever-changing tiny duplicate of the bonfire that tied Marco to the circus.

"It's lovely," she told him, but the word seemed inadequate, so she just kept looking, tracing over the lines. Her lips curved into a smile. "You didn't need to ask where we were headed tonight. You already knew."

"I always know," he agreed, and together they watched the train on the page make its way towards its destination, while outside the stateroom window, snow continued to fall, forgotten.


End file.
